Found and Lost
by The Layman
Summary: A young man travels to the bowels of Coruscant to find something that was thought to be lost forever. Neadless to say, trouble ensues. AU. Tie-in to "Heart of a Jedi" by Great One.


_Hey there, Layman here! I'm kind of a huge Star Wars fan, but I've found very few fanfics that capture the same sense of adventure that the OG Trilogy (I'm not that big a fan of the Clone Wars era material). _

_However, an author by the pen name of Great One has managed to tap into that sense of fun that Star Wars is ultimately about. While he mostly does HanXLeia stories, he also dabbles in zany crossovers and alternate history retellings (a la Star Wars: Infinities). One such story, "Heart of a Jedi", contains an OC that yours truly helped create, who is the main focus if this story right here. _

_So before you read this, you should probably go check out "Heart of a Jedi" to see if you actually want to know more about this OC.  
_

_And if you've laready read GO's story then by all mean read on, and may the Force be with you!_

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

Since the tragic destruction of the Jedi 17 years ago, many of their fabled Lightsabers had been either lost to time or had ended up in the hands obscure collector or criminal despots that used them for less than noble purposes. A few had ended up in the hands of the more public and well to do figures of the Republic, though they only cared about how much they could brag to their peers about the fact.

It was really a wonder that no one had thought to make profit from the new opportunity, which Artis Jinn was legitimately surprised about.

"Hey, another round!" Artis called to the gruff bartender. He was sitting in a local cantina in Mos Eisley, widely regarded as one of the most wretched hives of scum and villainy, to meet up with someone who would lead him to what was probably the greatest find of his career.

Where was she anyway? He looked around the room as the bartender topped him off, taking in the local flavor; many of the patrons were among the more unsavory races that populated the galaxy, though every now and then he saw one that seemed out of place among the ruffians, like the house band that was playing. He'd known a Bith or two in his travels, though none had the musical skills this quartette did.

"I hope this is the right cantina," he muttered into his drink.

He was about to down the drink and head outside to wait for his contact, when he felt something decidedly female shaped press against his back.

"You look lonely, Stranger," the female said, her voice soft and husky, "Want someone to keep you company?"

"Thank, but I was just leaving," he said, not turning around. He didn't really blame whoever was hanging on him for signalling him him out, by human standards he was actually quite attractive, though he was often too modest to admit it himself.

"Please stay!" she pleaded, "I just got dumped by my good for nothing podracer boyfriend, and I need someone to help me forget about that washout!"

"Listen Miss," Artis said, turning around to address the being properly, "I'm sorry things didn't work out for you, but I'm not-"

He stopped when he finally saw who it was coming onto him. She was a Twi'lek, probably a around his age, with blue skin and her head tails tied up behind her. She also had a scar running over her right eye.

This was his contact.

"You know," she said, dropping the husky voice in favor of an annoyed one, "you and I could have had some fun if you weren't so damn closed off."

"Thanks for the compliment," he said, wryly but in good nature, downing his drink and leaving a few coins on the bar. "I was beginning to wonder if I hadn't picked the wrong bar."

"Nah, I just like seeing you sweat." She back off and held her hand out by way of greeting, "I'm Shella Secura."

"Artis Jinn." He shook her hand in return when recognition suddenly dawned on his face, "You're not related to Jedi _Ayla_ Secura by any chance, are you?"

"No, and keep your voice down!" Shella hissed, "You shouldn't throw 'Jedi' around so carelessly, unless you want every two bit bounty hunter on Tatooine with something to prove on your tail." She quickly lead him out of the cantina and into a waiting landspeeder.

"So, about Ayla-"

"We're not related," Shella stated adamantly, "You'd be surprised how much I much I get asked that." She pulled away from the cantina and headed further into the town, towards the ship docks. "We're gonna have to use your ship to get off planet," she told him, "...I sorta stowed away on a cargo hauler to get here, and I'd rather not repeat the experience."

"Sure, head to Bay 94 then," he said, leaning back. "You'll probably like her, she's a YT-2000; not as wiz as the 2400, but she get's the job done."

"As long as it has comfortable beds, then it's already better than my last trip."

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

_One week later…_

"You know," Artis said as he and Shella took an elevator down to the deep lower levels of Coruscant, "I honestly never thought I'd be back here so soon."

"You've been here recently?" she wondered.

"Not for around 8 years or so," he clarified. He continued when he saw the confusion on Shella's face, "I was born here originally, but I left when I was 17 do to...complicated family issues. Surprisingly, I've never had an excuse to come back here in all this time until now."

"What, they tried to marry you off to some Gamorean bimbo?" she asked.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands, "But actually, it was pretty much everything else that they did that rubbed me wrong; the political games, the public secret debauchery, the grandstanding, the elitism…"

"Wow, sounds like your folks could've fit right in with snooty beings that live up on the surface." After a moment of uncomfortable silence, it finally clicked, "Wait, you used to be rich?!"

"You'd be surprised how often I get asked that," Artis retorted playfully.

Shella suddenly snapped her fingers, "I _knew_ you looked familiar! Your mom's Artela Jinn, the Holo-star, right?"

"You know her?" Now it was Artis's turn to be surprised. "The way she used to carry on about it I thought everyone forgot about her."

"Not in my home!" The lift reached its destination. "My mother used to watch her Holo-dramas every evening before she went to bed! Sometimes the rest of my family stayed up and watched them with her."

"If I ever decide to pay her a visit I'll make sure to tell her that." He stepped off the lift and headed over to a nearby booth, where he rented a speeder bike. He let Shella get in front (since she knew where they were going) and they flew off into the unseen side of the Center of the Republic.

"So where exactly are we going?" Artis asked as he hung on tightly to his guide. "Despite growing up here I didn't really go exploring that much."

"One of the slums quadrants controlled by a power hunger Bothan know as The Great One. One of the weapon vendors who operates out of that area, and by all indications Great One doesn't know what he has."

"Then it's a good thing we're here to remove that temptation, like any good Jedi would."

"Except for the fact that _neither_ of us are Jedi," Shella pointed out.

"True," Artis conceded, "though I don't think one needs to be a Jedi to perform a good deed."

The rode mostly in silence the rest of the way, with Artis occasionally pointing out something he thought was interesting ("I haven't seen a butler droid that old in ages!") and Shella politely dismissing it ("They probably weren't that popular to begin with."), preferring to focus on navigating the narrow lanes of the Underworld.

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

Artis had seen quite a few planets in his travels, from the harsh desert worlds like Tatooine to exquisite underwater cities of Mon Calamari to the fluorescent jungles of Felucia, though very few places had as drastic a dichotomy as Coruscant, or such a vast slum district. He'd lived most of his life on the surface, mostly ignorant of what went on miles downward. His planet hopping opened his eyes to a lot of realities he'd been unaware before (though some of his naïveté still clung to him) and further fueled his sense of longing and adventure. He'd focused that restless energy into the pursuit of finding the lightsabers that had become ownerless in the wake of the Clone Wars and the barbaric Order 66, feeling that it was the least he could do to help preserve the memory of the noble heroes of the Republic.

He'd heard that some of the Jedi had survived the Purge and were continuing to train new Padawans, but he figured they probably wouldn't appreciate someone walking up to their temple and offering to sell their own weapons back to them like some greedy opportunist. Maybe one day he'd seek them out, but for now he would focus on finding this one particular weapon.

"Let's stop here," Shella said, parking the speeder bike just outside the glow of a street lamp, "We'll go the rest of the way on foot."

"Fair enough," Artis agreed as he and the Twi'lek dismounted the bike. He reached under his cloak and made sure his weapons were all secure. "You ready?" he asked Shella.

She smirked, then reached down the front of her top and pulled out a small holdout blaster. "I never leave home without it," she stated.

As the two of them made their way deeper into the slums Artis began to feel more and more uneasy. The location wasn't the cause, he'd visited slums before in his neverending search. No, this was something different, some kind of sixth sense telling him that danger was ahead.

Still, he _really_ wanted this particular lightsaber, so he did his best to ignore the feeling and just follow Shella. Besides, she seemed fine with everything, even the unsavoury beings that were following them-

Hang on, they weren't there two minutes ago.

"You know," he said, casually leaning over to Shella, "I think that group of Weequay behind us want to have some unkind words with us."

"They probably work for Great One," she whispered back, "Just keep walking and maybe we can lose them-"

"You two!" one of the Weequay called in Basic.

"Stang!" Shella swore, "On my signal, be ready to run."

The instant she suggested they run the uneasy feeling came back with interest.

"Hang on," he motioned for her to stop, turning to face the ruffians.

"Are you on spice or something?" she hissed. "There's seven of them and two of us; not even a Jedi could survive those odds!"

"Hey, my mother was an actress, remember?" he assured her, flashing a cocky smile, "I'm pretty good at talking my way out of situations like these." He turned back to the Weequay (Shella rolled her eyes) and said, in a pleasant voice, "Something we can help you with, gentlemen?"

The one who spoke before pulled out a blaster and aimed it right at the duo, the rest of his brethren following suit.

"Come with us," the leader said, gesturing for then to put their hands in the air, "The Great One wants to see you."

"You know, I'd like for absolutely nothing better," Artis said, raising his hands in compliance, "but my friend and I actually came here for something else, so if we could finish that thing up first-"

The last thing he remembered was his consciousness fading and all his muscles going numb.

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

The next thing he registered was a sharp kick in his side, jolting him back to awareness.

"Welcome back, Sunshine," Shella grunted next to him, "Next time, we go with _my_ plan."

"I take it we got hit with stun blasts?" he said, attempting to right himself (he awoke to suddenly find the universe on its side), discovering his hands and feet were bound with a heavy metal rope. A quick glance at Shella revealed her to be in the same position.

She swore something in her native language that Artis guessed was about him.

"Look," he apologized, "I'm sorry I got us into this mess, but in my defence there's usually some more arguing before the bad guys resort to shooting me."

She muttered something else that probably translated to "like that makes it any better".

"On the bright side-" Shella scoffed. "-I happen to have a plan for getting us out of this." He scooted over so he and Shella were back to back, "If you can reach up my sleeve I have something that can cut through-"

He quickly shut up when he heard footsteps approaching them.

"_I'll_ do the taking this time," Shella commended.

"Be my guest," Artis acquiesced easily, hoping win back some favor.

A moment later they were starting up at an elderly Bothan flanked by the Weequay from earlier. His hair was almost entirely gray, and was currently resting flat. His left eye was replaced by a prosthetic that looked patchier than a shedding Wookie. The red glow it gave off added to the menace.

"So I was in the middle of some window shopping," he said, foregoing all pleasantries and getting right to the important bits, "when I get notified that the little gutter worm that somehow managed to steak side on my _hard earned credits_ before skipping off planet had suddenly turned up again." He tsked, "I knew you were stupid, I mean you stole from _me_ after all, but to come right back into my waiting arms? I've known _Gungans _with more sense!"

"Good to see you too, _Great One_," she said with fake sweetness, "You really are a sight for sore eyes."

"You won't be saying that later," Great One said, "I assure you." He turned to Artis, his prosthetic eye blinking at the young man, "And what brings you down here?"

"Me?" Artis put on an exaggerated show of confusion, "I'm just here to look through all the junk people up top throw out." He lurked flats and stage whispered, "You wouldn't happen to know a good place to find antiques, would you? "

"He came down here with the Twi'lek," the Weequay leader said, "I'd wager he's her partner in crime."

"Is there any reason I shouldn't trust Crorvo here," Great One asked Artis, "seeing as I've known him longer then I have you?"

"Going by that logic," Artis answered after pounding what Great One had said, "I can't think of a single reason to believe any excuse I give. All I can offer is my assurance that I had no idea my friend here was less than trustworthy, not that you're likely to believe that either." He turned to Shella, looking genuinely sorrowful, "I'm sorry, Darling, but it looks like we're just not going to happen."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, suspiciously.

"I just can't go through with it," he continued, "not with your sordid criminal past hanging over us; my poor mother would keel over dead if she knew I'd married into a life of crime!"

"I think you _are_ on spice…"

"A doomed love, destined to end in tragedy!"

"Yep, _definitely_ on spice."

"My only regret...is that I never found 'Rosebud'..."

Artis probably would have continued if not for Great One suddenly bursting out in a hearty laugh.

"I still don't trust you," he cackled, "but I'm convinced you aren't in league with Miss Secura here. You're free to go." He motioned for one of the Weequay to untie Artis, who did so rougher than Artis would have liked.

"Much obliged," he said once free, rubbing his wrists. "Can I go now?"

"You may," Great One said, "though I think you might like what I'm about to do next, especially if you like antiques as much as you claim." He reached into the tunic he wore and pulled out the last thing Artis was expecting. It was a cylinder about 0.3 meters long, with black ridges along half of it, an emitter on one end, and golden highlights along it.

It was the lightsaber of the legendary Jedi Master Mace Windu, a little worse for wear, but the exact prize he was searching for.

"I just acquired it when I got the news Shella and yourself had arrived," the Bothan said, "Though I haven't tested it yet; something more important came up, after all. Considering the circumstances, I figured this would be as good a time as any to give it a try."

Now Shella looked incredibly worried, the fact that her life was about to come to a close finally starting to sink in.

"Mind if I take a look before you do?" Artis asked, a hungry gleam in his eye, "I promise that's all I'll do; you're the one with all the guns after all."

Great One rubbed his chin, mulling the proposal over.

"Very well," he said, handing the device to the young man, "try not to break it."

Artis held the tube reverently, hardly able to believe he was actually holding a piece of Jedi history in his hands. While the Jedi were primarily peacekeepers and diplomats (save for the recent Clone Wars), if ever there was a Jedi warrior than it would have been Mace Windu. He'd heard more stories about Matter Windu's impressive accomplishments both before and during the Clone Wars, and he'd always been Artis's personal favorite Jedi since as long as he could remember.

"I have to admit, I'm more than a little jealous," Artis said, having the the back to the slum boss, "I've been looking for something like this for _ages_; it's a shame you found it before I did."

"That's just the way the galaxy spins," Great One shrugged, "good luck with your antiques." He turned to Shella and ignited the violet blade and pointed it menacingly at the going Twi'lek. "I was probably going to just shoot you if I ever caught up with you," he explained, "but now I think you'll make the perfect volunteer for a little experiment I devised; as you know, being cut with one of these isn't immediately fatal, since the energy blade cauterizes the wound, unless you get hit in a vital organ or decapitated. So, since you won't eventually bleed out if you lose a limb..." He flicked the lightsaber, cutting Shella's left arm off at the elbow. She winced in pain, barely holding back a scream, "...my experiment is to see how much pain a being can handle before it becomes more than they can bear."

While everyone was focused on Shella clutching her remaining stump, Artis suddenly rammed his elbow into the face of one of the Weequay standing by the door, grabbing his blaster and shooting the second Weequay before he could bring his own weapon to bear. He then snapped his left arm out, causing a lightsaber to pop out of his sleeve and ignite, its blade glowing green. The other Weequay (there were three, including the leader) all drew their blasters and fired on him, only for him to deflect the fire back at them. One lucky blast returned to the gun that fired it, while the rest hit the owners of the guns in their arms.

"Well would you look at that," Artis said, feigning surprise, "I seem to have one of these too."

"It seems you do," Great One said, his rippling hair belying his measured voice. "However, you're currently all the way over there, too far to do anything to help Miss Secura." He held Mace Windu's saber so the blade was next to Shella's throat. "I'll be quite impressed if you can actually save her from over there."

"Challenge accepted!" Artis brought the blaster he pilfered to bear, firing a stun blast at the Bothan and dropping him like a bag of irony.

"Shoot him!" Crorvo yelled at him men, "He can't block every shot!"

Artis then snapped his right arm out, popping _another_ lightsaber into his hand, this one sporting a blue blade. Before any of the Weequay could recover he lunged forward, slashing both sabers across the chests of the two Weequay closest to him, spinning to cut the arm off the third, before impaling Crorvo with the green bladed saber.

"Don't stick around," said Artis, deactivating the saber and letting Crorvo fall to the ground. He quickly deactivated the other saber, hooking them to his belt as he knelt beside Shella. "Hey, you gonna be alright?"

"That line…," hissed through the pain, tears running down her face, "was..._soooo_ cheesy…."

"Good thing they didn't cut off your sense of humor," Artis said, wry but relieved. After fiddling with the knot on Shellas legs, he eventually gave in and cut the bindings with one of his lightsabers. He gave her a hand up, "You think you can make it back to my ship?"

"Unless 'Great One' decided to cut my legs off when I wasn't looking," she said, clutching her stump to her chest. "By the way," she nodded at the sabers on his hip, "how long have you had those?"

"Oh I've had them for a while now," he said, leading her out of the building they were in (he made sure to grab Mace Windu's saber before he forgot), "and I'm never letting go of either of them; the blue one because it's the oldest one I've ever found, and the green one because I built it out of the spare parts I had. Seriously, it was _totally_ wiz when I finally got the blade to power up!..."

Shella just let Artis talk, actually enjoying the excite rambling coming from his mouth. (It sort of helped distract her from the pain in her arm, ...or lack thereof now.) He talked about the different Lightsabers he'd found since he struck out on his own, detailed some of the more exotic planets he'd visited, the people he'd met, the adventures he'd had; she was enjoying herself so much that she hardly even noticed when he helped her into one of the beds on his ship and lifted off.

"I set the navicomputer to take us to the nearest hospital that specializes in artificial limbs," he said when he came to check up on her, "in the mean time I think I might have some painkillers, if you want them."

"Thanks," she said, "but I'm think I can handle it now." She held up her arm (which was wrapped in bacta patches) in emphasis. "but you don't need to go out of way like that! Just drop me off at a normal clinic, I'll be fine."

"It's the least I can do to pay you back for your arm," he insisted, "besides, I might as well, put some of my parents' hard earned credits to good use." He explained further, a devious smile on his face, "The hospital is about to receive modest yet generous donation from Dibis and Artela Jinn when you're admitted."

"Do you throw your parents' money around like this?" she asked, laying back; she was getting exhausted in more ways than one after the whole ordeal.

"No, but this is a special occasion." He sat down on the edge of the bunk, getting lost in memories of his life on Coruscant he had thought any in a long time, "I use to do this occasionally back when I was still living at home, take a little money from the Jinn family bank account and donate it to done random charity or other; I never really paid attention to what they were for, just that they actually made some kind of difference. Never any more then a million credits or so at a time, otherwise they would have noticed the dip in their funds. I _do_ remember I sent an anonymous donation to the senator from Naboo once; I think she was the one who was always pushing for a stronger felled effort during the War. It was one of those peaceful worlds anyway. You wouldn't happen to know for sure, would you? ...Shella?"

Shella had fallen asleep during his rambling, breathing evenly.

"Mother always did day I was long winded..."

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

When they arrive at the hospital Shella was taken in by a Mon Cal doctor and one of the newer model 2-1B medical droids, with the assurance that she would be given the best of care. That taken care of, Artis then asked to see someone about the payment of Shella's treatment. After he explained that he was a liaison for the Jinn family he was put in touch with the hospital director, where he negotiated a tidy 1.5 million credit donation in return for caring for the Twi'lek woman he brought in.

Once the formalities were out of the way, he went in search of Shella to say his goodbyes.

"Excuse me," he asked a receptionist droid, "could you tell where the patient I brought in earlier is? She's Twi'lek name Shella Secura."

"She is currently being prepped to be fitted with her cyborg arm," the droid said in a pleasant voice, "Visitors are not permitted until the procedure is complete and the patient has been allowed to rest of at least three hours."

Artis _really_ wanted to let off some choice swears he'd picked up over the years. Not at the droid per say, but because he couldn't stick around to say hi once she came out of surgery.

"Is there any way I can record a message for her?"

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

Back on his ship, Artis sighed as he leaned back in the pilot's seat as he left Coruscant's orbit, finally able to relax. Between the fiasco in the Underworld and struggling over the message he'd left Shella he was more than ready for a sabbatical from any excitement.

Before he made the jump to hyperspace he logged onto to the holonet to search for any new unfound lightsabers he could pursue. He patted his newest acquisition (which hung from his belt), vowing never to part with it. Not only was it the greatest find of his life, but it was a piece of the Jedi that, until recently, was thought to be lost to the Force like its master. He was going to take _extra_ special care of this one!

As he sorted through the different articles LandosList he came across an interesting one, not related to his hobby. It was an ad asking for capable ships to haul cargo and supplies to a construction project over Despayre, with good pay.

"Well, it's better than nothing until the next adventure," he said, punching in the coordinates to Despayre.

_Continued in "Heart of a Jedi"..._

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

_And that was the story of how Artis Jinn found Mace Windu's lightsaber. Hope y'all enoyed it, and I hope you'll still follow Mr. Great One's story as well. _

_By the way, Great One, hope you don't mind me naming the villain of the piece after you. I actually wanted to put in a line about how he controls the very lives of everyone in the slum (It's Meta!), but my muse had other ideas. _


End file.
